On Becoming Uncomfortable

I’m 45 years old.  I come from a big family.  There were 12 of us. Seven sisters and four brothers.  All of us were raised in East St. Louis in a good household with a mother and father.  My father worked hard and my mom was a homemaker.  Today my brothers and sisters are pretty much all settled.  They range in age from 34 to 54.  We’re a close-knit family. 

Charles Cooper with financee Betsy

I’ve been in St. Louis now 20 years.  I worked for the East St. Louis Casting Company (a steel mill) right out of high school until I was in my early twenties.  In fact, I worked with my father until the plant closed.  Then I started hanging out with the fellas.

I made the move to St. Louis when things were still unstable in my life.  It came at a time when I started to waver with my faith.  I began experimenting with different things like alcohol and drugs.  Added to that was the fact that I had a lot of mental and emotional problems.  I was always able to find a job but maintaining employment became a problem for me. 

By age 30 I can say was officially homeless.  But the experimentation with alcohol and drugs was not nearly as problematic for me as my mental condition.  I eventually was diagnosed as manic-depressive and bi-polar. 

In those days, mental illness was still somewhat of a mystery, even more than today.  I had an uncle who had a mental illness.  I remember at one point recognizing that I was doing the sorts of things he did. 

The trouble with being unable to keep a job is that I never felt established.  I was homeless, staying with family or friends. 

I slowly started to learn “the trail.”  They call it “the trail.”  Or to put it another way, I started learning how to maneuver within the cycle of homelessness.  I’d find out where I could get a meal or where I could get clothes or medical assistance or a shower.  And I’d get by.

But it was after learning “the trail” when it hit me that I was really homeless. 

I took it as a real blow. 

I realized I had become comfortable with my predicament.  And knowing this took me deeper into my depression.

The ironic thing is that growing up I was real involved with my church and used to counsel younger men about what to do to avoid life’s pitfalls, like homelessness.  Now I found myself in the very situation I used to warn others about.

And by the way, you never leave “the trail.”  Once you learn it, you know how to survive.

That’s part of the problem.  You lose your fear of becoming homeless because you know how to survive.  You become, in a certain sense, comfortable.

Someone who is homeless can move within the shelter system, work a job or two and keep enough money barely make it. 

But I f you’re lucky or blessed as I was, you eventually come to realize that there has to be a better way. 

Until you meet someone who can teach you structure you’re lost.  I used to mail myself money orders just so I could make it through a month.  This way I wouldn’t have to worry about having money on my person or getting robbed.

I learned that on “the trail” as well.

After enough bus stops and shelters, using stacks of the St. Louis American for pillows, I found my way to Peter & Paul. 

The first time I went through the Transitional Program at Peter & Paul I left before I was ready. 

I was able to get an apartment for about a year, but all the old habits eventually caught up to me.  I found myself back on “the trail” again.  But at least this time I got a taste of what it was like to be established.

I realized Peter & Paul was teaching me how to survive for the long haul so that I would never need to return to homelessness.  60% of my money was put aside in order to prepare myself for future bills.  As it turns out, it should have been 90% because now I know what it’s like to be broke on payday [laughs].  But it’s worth it.  It’s worth it.

When I finally came to the decision that I was going to change my life, I made up my mind that I would not allow myself to be comfortable any longer and nothing would deter me from my path.  And once my mind was together, my heart followed.

Look, there’s always going to be homelessness. But there’s always going to be somebody who doesn’t want to be comfortable in it.  And if you can reach 3 or 4 at a time who really want out, then its grip can be diminished.

And there are always those that want to get out.  I was one of them.  And I thank God that He gave me the mind to not want to be there, to want to step forward and step out.

I would have never thought that in 2007 I’d be running a (restaurant) kitchen and closing on a home with my fiancé.  I’m forever grateful to God for everything. 

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